Best night of his life.

He ate a hotdog. And popcorn. And a little bit of soft pretzel. He sipped on Coca-Cola. His Pops and Peeplow were there - along with his Papa. His brother wasn't there. I allowed him to wear his rain boots. He stayed up way pass his bedtime.

You might think all that made this night the best of Lane's life. Those paled in comparison.

Because there in front of my almost three year old was the real deal. Larger than life. Giant representations of the tiny replicas he plays with all day - each and every day.

Monster Jams.

He couldn't smile. He could hardly speak. He might have been in shock. Or, more than likely, awe at the sight of some of his favorite monster trucks.

Gunslinger, Wrecking Crew, Avenger, Spike and one of his very favorites Brutus. Lined up and right there for him to look at and touch.

He waited patiently for the show to start. When the sun went down and the lights came on the best part of the night began.

Those trucks raced, turned in circles, revved their engines, jumped cars and flipped - just like they do when Lane plays with them in his bedroom.

We haven't stopped talking about it since that night. In fact, I can hear him right now in his bedroom, "I see Pops. I see Peeplow. MeMother and Evan went to Target. Are you ready for the show? This is Dixie Speedway. Up first, Avenger and Martial Law. Uh oh, he flipped. Here comes the tractor......"

And the show goes on. And on. And on.